


Warfare

by Trainmaster64



Series: Rosie Saga [2]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Anguish, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Trains, War, Wartime, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trainmaster64/pseuds/Trainmaster64
Summary: Thomas listens to Rosie tell him about her life outside of Sodor, and how she first worked for the army during the War. 2/5





	

It had been several days since the army had begun to expand their operations. The engines would occasionally see the engines from the base running supplies in. Though they always whistled a friendly greeting, the army engines normally failed to respond. The few times any of them did were brief and blunt, followed by a quick departure to move their trains back in time.

Rosie had been upset for several days. She always tried to avoid the army engines whenever she could, and refused to respond to them whenever they tried to talk to her. The other engines were growing concerned by her behaviour.

“Rosie was with them at one point,” Toby pointed out one evening. “She first worked for the army before coming to Sodor. Who knows what she would have seen or done… it’s a shame.”

“It’s horrible,” Thomas huffed. “We were lucky here – we were never really affected like the mainland. Sodor was always a bit safer.”

“Just don’t forget,” Toby pressed, “the wartime trains were necessary. No one wanted to have to do it, but we did because we had to. We fought because we would die otherwise.”

The engines fell silent, thinking and remembering. Thomas was particularly perturbed. He wanted to help Rosie if she needed him… but if he had no idea what she had gone through, how could he help her? He was correct; Sodor had never been affected in the same way as the Mainland had. Somehow, he had to understand.

He needed to talk to her and understand.

***

Rosie was resting in her shed when Thomas puffed in. She had finished all of her work for the day, and was feeling exhausted. The trucks had given her more than enough trouble to contend with, her trains had been slightly later than usual – something Rosie really tried hard to avoid if she could help it – and she was still wary of the military base at Ffarquhar.

So lost was she in her thoughts that Rosie did not notice Thomas puff into the sheds at first. As she saw him approach, however, she quickly pasted a smile upon her face – “Hello, Thomas! How are you doing? How was your day today?”

“Rosie, what’s going on with you?” Thomas asked with concern.

Rosie was taken off-guard for a moment, but quickly regained her composure. “What do you mean, Thomas? I’m fine.”

“You aren’t. You’re upset about the army base, Rosie – what’s going on?”

“I said I’m fine, Thomas,” said Rosie, though she did not look fine any longer – now she was getting upset. “Please, Thomas – can you leave it alone?”

Thomas knew she had asked him this the last time as well, and he had done so – he had not wanted to hurt Rosie. He had cared about her happiness enough to let her refrain from opening up and sharing her pain.

Now, Thomas knew he had actually hurt her more than he had helped – and it was time for him to fix that.

“No, Rosie. I can’t leave it alone. You can’t leave it alone. You need to talk about it.”

“Thomas –”

“No, Rosie. I only want to help. I just want to be there for you. I know it was difficult back then, but I –”

“You DON’T!” Rosie bellowed, making Thomas jump with surprise. “You don’t know ANYTHING about what happened, Thomas! You were safe here on Sodor! I was in the middle of it all! I saw many things,” she whispered, trembling. “Horrible things. I did many bad things, Thomas… I saw and did things I can never take back… you were safe on Sodor. You don’t know anything about what happened during the war.”

Thomas’ eyes were wide as he moved tentatively forward. “No, Rosie, I don’t. But I do want to know. I just want to help you through this, my love – what was it like? Please, tell me.”

Rosie trembled slightly, as she remembered. “It was back in the war… things were different… everything was so horrible… so black… so filled with death…”

***

It was 1944. Both sides had suffered heavy losses – the war had been raging onwards for years, with the end far off yet. Forces from outside the continent had come in, and were slowly taking back the mainland. 

A lone USA Dock Tank stood in the sidings near a town in France. The engine’s paintwork was dull and dirty, and its markings were covered in dirt and mud – the rains in the region had made for some very difficult times indeed. Only a single name, etched on the engine’s bunker, identified this as ‘Rosie.’ The men had thought it a great joke, having the engine named after the famous character from American propaganda…

Rosie was crying as she carried out her basic shunting duties. She had just been informed that another train had been bombed – and it had been pulled by one of her brothers. Rosie had been built with many other engines like her, in large batches to be dispatched to the European front. There were many engines in her family… but she still loved them all. Her biggest problem was that she cared too much – she felt broken at having lost so many family members. All she wanted was to be useful and safe, with her family by her side.

“Que Dieu ait pitié. O Dieu ... S'il vous plaît nous sauver. Aidez-nous. Fin de cette horrible guerre. Tuez-moi…” Rosie shivered as she sat, whispering in French to herself. “I just want this war to end. Why do we have to fight like this – why can’t we all just get along? Why d-do so many of us have to die?” The tears streaked down her grimy face and onto her bufferbeam, burning her eyes with the bitter pain she felt inside.

Then, she heard the approach of an army staff car. Quickly, Rosie began to work harder, not wanting to get into trouble. As the Commander stepped out, Rosie worked even harder – this particular Commander did not like her at all. He was always getting angry with her, telling her to work faster and harder when she was doing her best… nothing was good enough for him.

Today would be no exception.

“Number 64!”

Rosie stopped, waiting for her judgment. It hardly mattered anymore… her brothers were gone… her family was dying, dead. She longed to have them back with her. She had fought for so long, trying to protect them and everyone else… the tears were falling faster…

“What are you doing, number 64? Are you crying?” The Commander was appalled. “What have we said about crying in this war?”

Rosie could not speak, only crying silently where she stood. It was all too much for her. She was strong and weak, brave and cowardly. Rosie was a plethora of contradictions, and at the moment she felt worse than ever.

“Number 64! You will address me when I speak to you! What have we said about crying, number 64?”

“… i-it’s a s-sign of weakness… sir…” Rosie whispered, weakly.

“I could not hear you, number 64! Speak up, engine! What have we said?”

“It’s a sign of weakness, sir!” Rosie bellowed, shaking as she wept.

“Why must we be strong, engine?”

“To fight for the Commonwealth and the freedom of her Allies!”

“We shall not fail!”

“No, sir!”

“We shall not fall!”

“No, sir!”

“You will be strong!”

“Yes, sir!”

“You will not cry!”

“No, sir!”

“Then stop crying, engine!”

With one deft movement, the Commander strode forth and slapped Rosie hard across her face. Rosie cried out in pain and shock as he struck her once, leaving a rapidly-reddening mark upon her face. Knowing what would happen should she continue, Rosie immediately began to try to stop her tears from falling.

“We are not weak, number 64. You will work on your assigned duties, and you will stay strong – our side is close to victory. You will stay strong for us. You will not break down again. You will not cry again. You will win this war, and save countless lives!”

As the Commander strode away, Rose was left thinking about how many lives had already been lost and what this prolonged fighting really achieved – all she knew at this point was that war did nothing, but caused death and suffering… she wanted peace. It was bitterly ironic that she was forced to fight for it.

Trying not to cry again, Rosie began shunting once more. However, there came a dreadful sound that chilled her to the core – a sound she knew all too well and despised forevermore. It was the sound of an air-raid siren, signalling the doom ahead…

“AIR RAID! TO THE POSITIONS!”

At once, everybody scrambled to their positions, trying to protect their base and keep everything secure and safe. Rosie watched as the battle began to unfold – the drone of the planes was getting louder… then, there was a blast: the Commander had been hit by shrapnel as his staff car disintegrated in a ball of fire and smoke.

Rosie immediately charged forwards, trying to reach the Commander. “Hold on, sir! I’m coming!” With all of her might, she stormed forth, puffing up to the injured man and waiting for him to climb aboard.

The Commander wasted no time in climbing into the cab. “Onward, number 64 – make sure the others are all right! We need to secure the base!”

“But sir, you’re injured –”

“Number 64! A soldier never leaves a fellow man behind! You will follow my orders or I will have you scrapped by tomorrow!”

Quickly, Rosie puffed forth to inspect the other places. Everywhere she looked, she saw blood spilt upon the ground. Men from both sides dropped, dying and dead before they fell. Explosions rocked the ground, splitting the land apart and wrenching everything apart. People were lost, death claiming them far too soon as they fell like rag dolls where they stood. As the Commander completed his inspections and helped as best he could, he hobbled back to Rosie.

“Now, number 64 – onward!”

Rosie puffed forwards as quickly as she could, bravely making her way through the dust and smoke. It was so hard to see… so hard to keep moving… Rosie made her way through the nightmare, the Commander shouting orders that she was past hearing. It was surreal; the experience seemed like it was too much to be truly real at times. Quickly, though, Rosie remembered how vividly real it was.

Then, Rosie saw a man dash across the line. He was wearing a foreign uniform, with a red armband – an enemy soldier. As Rosie whistled to alert him of her presence, he jumped and stumbled, falling across the railway line – he had gotten caught in the sleepers, unable to move and trapped in the path of the oncoming train.

Rosie was horrified – she tried to stop herself from hitting the man, but the Commander had other ideas. Reaching for the regulator, he drove Rosie onwards towards the struggling man.

“SIR! STOP! HE’S STUCK!”

“He’s an enemy soldier, number 64 – he must die! It’s him or us!”

Rosie shut her eyes, not looking ahead as the man grew closer to her. She felt a bang against her front end, heard a thin, piteous scream fading quickly behind her, and still she pressed onward, never ceasing until she had reached the makeshift station where the Commander was to be assisted to the hospital.

“Excellent work, number 64,” the Commander said to her. “You’ve done well. Never hesitate like that again, or else I’ll have your couplings.” Then, he passed out, letting the medical staff carry him to the waiting helicopter.

It took a moment for Rosie to move off to a siding, close by the yards. As she hit the buffers, she was unpleasantly reminded of the man she had hit… he could not have been more than 20 years old… his life was now over. She had killed a man simply because he was there, ended his life because he was fighting them against a cause she had long ago forgotten. He would never get to go home, never see his family or friends again…

Then, Rosie felt something trickling down her face. A single drop of blood fell off the end of her nose, leaving a slight red stain against the dark, muddy backdrop of her bufferbeam. With a horrible lurch, Rosie realized it was his blood… his body had exploded as she had struck him, covering her in his life blood, marking her as the murderer she felt she was. Trembling violently, Rosie was fighting the urge to vomit.

“OI! Number 64! Back to work – we need your help!” Another official was shouting at her, yelling for her to help fight this war, to help kill and watch her friends be killed.

“I wish I were dead,” Rosie whispered to herself. “I wish it were me that was killed, instead of my family… I don’t want to live anymore…” Suddenly, Rosie vomited from the unbearable agony of it all, spewing her agony from her mouth in a torrent of grief. She had only just stopped when she felt herself being moved, being dragged back to the fight, being forced to fight for the cause again…

***

Thomas was stunned, silent in respect and admiration of the engine before him. Rosie had been so brave… so strong… he was amazed at what she had gone through. She was truly braver than most of the other engines here on Sodor – he truly loved and respected her deeply for her bravery.

He was also appalled that his love had had to go through that torture.

“Rosie,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had to go through all of that. I should have… I…” Thomas was lost for words, so upset by how his love had been treated.

“It’s all over now,” Rosie said simply. “It happened a long time ago. Things change. We move on. All we can do now, is move on and work hard to make sure that they didn’t d-die in v-vain.” Rosie’s voice was beginning to crack; her wall of solid stoniness was beginning to crumble. “They w-worked with us, Thomas. W-we need to work hard for them. Let’s go work hard now.”

Rosie tried to move out of the sheds, but Thomas blocked her path. “Rosie, stop. It’s okay. You can be upset.”

“T-Thomas, please; not n-now.” Rosie was visibly becoming more and more distressed as the memories threatened to engulf her; she needed to get away immediately or risk crying and looking weak in front of Thomas. “L-let me go, Thomas.”

“No.”

“Thomas, p-please!”

“Rosie. It’s all right. You can cry. Really, it’s all right.”

Rosie furiously blinked back tears, trying to stay strong. She would not cry, she would NOT cry… it was a sign of weakness… “… T-Thomas… n–”

“Rosie,” Thomas puffed quietly. “Please. You can cry if you want to. I’ll be here with you.”

Rosie couldn’t speak; she grunted a negative response, trying to hold herself back from the brink.

Thomas puffed closer to her, and was surprised when Rosie quickly reversed, biting her lip to keep from crying. “N-no – c-can’t… can’t c-cry… s-sign of… of…”

“You’re not weak, Rosie,” Thomas said gently, puffing forwards to meet her again. “You’re strong. Strong engines are allowed to cry once in a while. Please, Rosie… my love.”

That one word did it; Rosie finally broke down. Sobbing with the memories of the atrocities committed in her past, she let her anguish spill out of her. Thomas embraced her as she cried into him; Thomas felt her wet tears running down his face. It wasn’t long before her tears were thoroughly mixed with his own.

Rosie wept for those who had been lost, those who had been found, those who had died and those who had had to kill. She wept for the countless lives shattered by the War. Mostly, she wept for her brothers and sisters, lost forever in that tragic time by the unseeing, unfeeling war machine. She cried and cried, not bothering to hide the pain any longer – it was pain that deserved to be heard and felt.

Thomas held Rosie close to him as she sobbed, whispering to her and not daring to let her go. His own eyes were leaking a steady stream of tears as he held his love, gently kissing her and keeping her with him in an attempt to shelter them both from the very real past.

Finally, Rosie had calmed down enough to look at Thomas properly. Her face had surpassed its normal pink and was red with anguish. “T-Thomas… why? W-why did they have to die? Why did we have to send them to die? What d-did they do to deserve that?”

“I wish I knew, Rosie,” Thomas puffed quietly. “I really wish I knew. At least one good thing came out of it all.”

Rosie glared at Thomas with the deepest of loathing. “NOTHING good ever came out of it. Nothing at all good ever came from that horrible time, Thomas.”

“You came from that time,” Thomas said simply. “You came to Sodor, and came into my life and my heart. I don’t know where I’d be without you right now, but I know I wouldn’t be as happy without you. That’s something that came from that time.”

Rosie understood what Thomas meant; her face went from deep fury and anger to shame and guilt to teary-eyed love in the space of seconds. “Oh, Thomas!”

And Rosie kissed Thomas passionately, catching the little blue engine completely off-guard. Her lips caressed his own, her tears soaking their faces as she partly kissed him and partly cried into him. Thomas let Rosie make the moves she needed to make, in order to recover and calm down. Rosie desperately kissed him, in an attempt to have some semblance of peace and calm in her world of torment and despair.

Eventually, Rosie had settled down enough to fall asleep. Thomas held her close to him still, never wanting to let her go as she drifted into sleep. Gently kissing her lips with great restraint, he carefully moved her backwards into the shed to rest, before moving into his own berth next to her. He didn’t fall asleep right away, however – he stayed awake for a long time, wondering exactly how men could be so cruel to each other, and how such atrocities could ever occur. His Rosie did not deserve that – no one did. He would NOT let her be hurt like that again.

Unfortunately for Thomas, his resolution would be tested sooner than anyone expected or wanted.


End file.
